


Rebirth

by ImpishTubist



Series: Regeneration [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 11:05:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1172298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chakotay dreams of home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rebirth

**Author's Note:**

> I'm now considering this series complete, at least for the time being.

It seemed as though every other week someone was concocting a wild plan to get them home.

Most of the ideas were harebrained, fueled more by hope than by feasibility, and usually piqued around the time of month when letters arrived to _Voyager_ from the Alpha Quadrant. Sometimes, however, the ideas carried some weight, and that’s when they crossed Chakotay’s desk in the form of a proposal. 

This latest one was from Tom and Harry, and it kept Chakotay up until well past the time when he usually retired. Had only Harry’s name been attached to the proposal, Chakotay might have left it until morning, because though Harry was an admirable officer, he was also probably the most desperate one of them to get back home. Seeing Tom’s name had given Chakotay pause, though, and after reading through it several times (and working out some of the calculations for himself), even he had to admit that the idea had merit. He would have to take it up with B’Elanna in the morning. If it passed her standards, then he would take it to Kathryn.

Chakotay was aching with exhaustion when he finally made it back to his own quarters. A sonic shower massaged away most of the tension in his shoulders, but it did nothing to quiet his mind. The thought that they might actually have a feasible way of getting back home - or at least of shaving decades off their journey - took root in his mind, and his thoughts wandered of their own accord. Chakotay usually tried to keep himself from imagining what it would be like to finally get home, as it did no good to waste so much time thinking about something that would probably never happen in his lifetime. He needed to focus his attention on his duties. 

But here, in the quiet and solitude of his cabin, Chakotay found that he could do little else.

He padded into the bedroom, clad only in a towel, and was surprised to find Greg still awake. It wasn’t unusual to find Greg in his quarters, but he was usually asleep by this hour. He was stretched out on the bed, one leg bent at the knee, reading from a PADD that was propped on his chest. He had his free arm tucked behind his head.

“Sorry it’s so late,” Chakotay said. He stepped into a pair of pajama bottoms and discarded the towel. 

“I had a feeling that proposal would keep you in your office for most of the night,” Greg said, a small smile touching his lips.

“How did you know about that?”

“Tom and Harry were talking about it in the Mess Hall. They seem to think they’ve really stumbled onto something.”

Chakotay collapsed across the bed, his body lying at a right angle to Greg’s, and pillowed his head on Greg’s chest. Greg draped his left arm over Chakotay, his hand coming to rest on Chakotay’s sternum, and continued to read. 

“They might have,” Chakotay allowed. “It does appear promising.”

They lapsed into silence. Greg slid their fingers together. Chakotay shut his eyes and tried to persuade his mind to quiet. He had been awake for going on twenty hours now, and tomorrow was going to be another long day. But he couldn’t keep hope and cautious optimism from invading his thoughts, and though his limbs were heavy with exhaustion, his mind felt as alert as though it was only the middle of the day.

“What do you think you’d do first?” Chakotay found himself asking.

“Hm?”

Chakotay picked Greg’s hand up off his chest, holding it between both of his own while he examined it. He brushed his fingertips across each knuckle, over the ever-present tan line on Greg’s ring finger, and along the lines of Greg’s palm.

“When we get back to Earth,” he said. “What do you want to do first?”

He couldn’t actually hear Greg stop reading, but he did feel the other man still beneath him. And then there was a rustle of fabric as Greg reached over and set the PADD aside on the bedside table.

“ _If_ we get back to Earth, don’t you mean?” Greg asked mildly. His other hand found its way into Chakotay’s hair. “You’re starting to sound like young Harry Kim.”

“Young Harry Kim isn’t so young anymore,” Chakotay said, a bit sharper than he had intended. He sighed. “And I’m tired of playing devil’s advocate in the face of everyone else’s hope. Just for once… I want to pretend that we might _finally_ be going home.”

Greg’s hand stilled.

“What is it _you_ want to do?”

Chakotay lifted one shoulder in a shrug that was made awkward by the way he was lying on Greg’s chest. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Greg tugged on his earlobe, and Chakotay felt his soft huff of disbelief. “Liar. ‘Course you have.”

Chakotay batted Greg’s hand away. “ _Yes_ , all right, I have.”

“Well?”

Chakotay heaved a long-suffering sigh. “You’re going to laugh.”

“You should have thought of that before you brought this up, shouldn’t you have?” Greg sounded faintly amused. “Go on, then. What’s a great warrior like you afraid of admitting to me?”

Chakotay rolled to his knees and grabbed Greg’s wrists, pinning them to the pillow above his head and straddling his hips. 

“Who are you calling _afraid_ , Lestrade?” he whispered against the shell of Greg’s ear. “Certainly not me, I hope.”

Greg gave a breathy chuckle as Chakotay shifted, deliberately rocking their hips together. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured, right before Chakotay captured his lips in a fierce kiss. 

In the aftermath, Chakotay lay with his head pillowed against Greg’s broad chest, his left leg thrown carelessly over both of Greg’s. Greg was resting on his back, his eyes closed while his left hand toyed idly with Chakotay’s hair. His right hand - the cybernetic one - rested comfortably on his stomach. It was rare that he forgot it so completely. Usually he rested it by his side or under a pillow, tucked carefully out of sight, even around Chakotay.

“You never answered my question,” Greg said finally. 

“Technically, I was the one to ask it first,” Chakotay pointed out. He let out a slow breath. “But if you must know… I’m going to take a long, hot bath.”

Greg let out  a quiet snort. “A _bath_?”

“You’re damned right, a bath,” Chakotay said. He laughed, though. He realized how ridiculous it sounded. “My sister has a place in Arizona, just outside of Phoenix. A blue-tile tub, water heated by geothermal springs, cacti in the backyard. They flower after a rainstorm, did you know? Not that it rains all that often in the desert, but when it does… oh, is that a sight to behold.”

Chakotay trailed off. He felt Greg kiss the top of his head. 

“That does sound wonderful,” he said. “A hot bath at home… I could go in for something like that.”

“And Chala makes the greatest mushroom soup you’ll ever taste in your life,” Chakotay went on. He snorted and tweaked Greg’s nipple. “Even if you don’t like mushroom soup.”

“Hey, now, I never said that I don’t _like_ it,” Greg protested. He caught Chakotay’s wandering hand and kissed his fingertips. “It’s just an acquired taste, is all.”

“You hate it.”

“Not when you make it,” Greg said, and Chakotay bit back a laugh. Sometimes, Greg was too saccharine for his own good. “What else will you do?”

What else, indeed. Chakotay would be lying if he said - if he even tried to _think_ \- that he hadn’t composed a list of places he wanted to visit when they got back. Things he wanted to do. If he wasn’t too old at that point, that is. Hiking _Valles Marineris_ on Mars, for instance, was the dream of a young man - a man younger than he was already, in truth, but Chakotay was nothing if not a dreamer. 

“I want to hike the deepest canyon and the tallest mountain in our solar system,” he said finally. “I want to visit the Galilean moons and picnic on Bajor. I want to drink tea on my sister’s front porch in the middle of the night, when temperature drops and the desert comes to life.”

Greg ran his fingers through Chakotay’s hair. He said nothing in response to that, as he could offer neither reassurance nor a guarantee. Chakotay wouldn’t have appreciated the words if he had. He was not one for false hopes. Then again, neither was Greg. 

“I’ve never been to Arizona,” Greg said after several heartbeats.

“You’d like it.”

“I’m certain that I will.”

It took some moments for Greg’s words to sink in. When they did, Chakotay lifted his head off Greg’s chest and peered at him in the semi-darkness. Greg traced the bow of Chakotay’s upper lip with the pad of his thumb.

“You wanted to know what I’m going to do if - _when_ we get back,” Greg said softly. “You need only ask what _you_ are going to do. And then know that I’m going to be right there, at your side. I go where you go.”

Chakotay slid a hand under Greg’s head, curved his palm around the back of Greg’s neck and drew him into a kiss. 

“Yes,” he said when he drew back. He brushed his fingers over Greg’s stubbled jaw. “I - yes. I want you there. With me. For as long as we’re both alive.”

They lay curled together that night, limbs tangled, Greg’s breath warm against the back of Chakotay’s neck. When Chakotay finally dropped off, he dreamed of a perfumed desert night that was alive with the wing beats of bats and distant coyote calls. He dreamed of fresh air and bright sunlight, and of the quiet, gentle presence of the man he never wanted to be without.   



End file.
